


Warden Business

by felandaris



Series: Another Place And Time [13]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Supernatural
Genre: And Music, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Darkspawn, Demons, F/M, Grey Wardens, Impala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7530811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felandaris/pseuds/felandaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Duncan's on a <i>hunting</i> trip- and he hasn't been home in a few days."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warden Business

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ceranna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceranna/gifts).



> Voila the painfully self-indulgent, mind-numbingly silly crossover nobody in their right mind would have ever dreamed of asking for:  
> SUPERNATURAL MEETS DRAGON AGE!  
> ...with [demonically delightful art ](http://cullenstairshenanigans.tumblr.com/image/147654015498)by the ever-awesome Ceranna (whom you should totally [follow on Tumblr](http://captainceranna.tumblr.com)).  
> Familiarity with both worlds is recommended when reading. You’ll notice I tweaked some of the dialogue to bring a bit more of Cullen and Alistair into Sam and Dean and to make them sound more ~~British~~ Fereldan (see, gotta know both!)

 

 

_Sweet dreams, Cullen.”_

_“Night, Pa.”_

_Dark and peace. Long breaths, unconscious movement._

_Then noise. Heat. Turmoil._

_Fire. Everywhere._

_“Ma?”_

_Nothing._

_“_ Pa _!”_

_Panic. Acute, all-encompassing. His bed, a prison._

_Evil, hovering. A yellow abyss of a stare, greedy, otherworldly._ Reaching for him.

_F e a r._

_Footsteps. Struggle. Silence._

_Another face. Weathered, foreign but friendly. A hand, warm and strong._

_“Come, boy.”_

Mouth dry, limbs heavy, Cullen blinked himself awake. His mind still a haze of memories and shades as dark as the room, he sat up, only to hiss at the flash of pain stinging in his temples.

More fragments flashed before him. _A room full of chatter and costumes. Shots by the round. Zevran, always so chatty. Talk of All Soul’s Day, interviews, scholarships._ Recent memories.

_Solona._

A peek to his left confirmed she was there, _still there,_ despite his never-ending doubts. Though bathed in shadow, a mere dark outline, she was breath-taking, poetry-inspiring.

As his senses adjusted to wakefulness, Cullen stilled, alerted by something he couldn’t yet grasp. _By what must have woken him._

He listened, suddenly-alert eyes scanning their bedroom for anything unusual among college life’s mundanities- books, plants, more books, but that was it.

A few walls away something clicked, and he shot out of bed. Light-footed steps, precise and near-silent, took him into the corridor. The flimsy curtain fluttering over the open window confirmed his suspicions of a break-in.

Adrenaline wiped the last traces of alcohol and fatigue from his body when he peeked into the living room to spot a shadow lengthened by the street lights’ beam. Tall, wiry and male, the figure was crossing the living room in cautious yet fluid strides- _headed towards him_.

Long-forgotten instincts kicked in, reactions he hadn’t relied on in years as Cullen attacked with a predator’s deadly precision, ready to defend his home.

Whoever the intruder was never saw him coming when Cullen knocked him face-first into the nearest wall. Within a second, however, the man recovered and a lightning-quick strike hit Cullen’s chest. The hairs on the back of Cullen’s neck stood up and his skin prickled with goose bumps as a familiar excitement shot through him. He countered the next blow, and the one after that, fists flying up through the air as his feet danced like they hadn’t in far too long. Jiu Jitsu, kickboxing, plain violence- his body remembered a decade’s training within a breathless instant. Each punch, every block made him feel more at ease, confident even- a little too confident perhaps, for his next swing whizzed through the air when his opponent ducked then knocked him down.

Cullen groaned as his head hit the wooden floor, blurring his vision for an instant before panic urged him to refocus. Questions raced through his head, rivalling his heartbeat’s speed. They remained unspoken, for at last the man revealed himself.

“Easy there, Noodle!”

Fear subsided into bewilderment. He’d expected any voice except this one. “ _Alistair?_ ”

A cackle was his only response.

“You scared the life out of me,” Cullen began, chest heaving.

Alistair chuckled, still pinning him down. “That’s because you’re out of prac-“ A quick tackle proved him wrong, and Alistair found himself flipped over. “… or maybe not,” he conceded.

Cullen rose to his feet, offering a hand. “What in the Void are you doing here?”

Even in the twilight the jovial crinkle around Alistair’s eyes was obvious. “I was gonna buy you a beer.”

A rush of irritation had Cullen pushing him up against the wall once more. “What _in the Void_ are you doing here?”

Raising his hands, Alistair gave in. “All right,” he nodded, “We need to talk.”

The haphazard explanation only stoked Cullen’s frustration. “Ever heard of the phone?”

Jest faded from Alistair’s face. “If I’d called, would you have picked up?”

He was about to respond, to spit back all that repressed anger in a spiteful tirade, but instead he squinted as the light came on.

“Cullen…?”

“Alistair,” Cullen pressed through gritted teeth as his visitor’s mouth dropped open, wide amber eyes flicking between the two as if trying to make sense of things. “This is Solona,” he stressed the next part, “… _my girlfriend_.”

Absently nodding, Alistair walked, no, _floated_ towards her. She returned his smile, though not without throwing Cullen a questioning glance. “This is your brother Alistair?”

“Well, not _really_ my brother, but-“

“Hello,” Alistair croaked, “are you actually his girlfriend? Because you’re quite-“

“ _Alistair_ ,” Cullen growled, folding his arms across his chest. Though his friend’s awkward antics had provided much amusement over the years, he couldn’t quite laugh at this particular display.

“I-I love nugs, by the way,” Alistair babbled on. A flush crept up his face to rival his ginger hair as he gawked at the cutesy t-shirt print stretching across her chest. “You’ve great taste in,” he gesticulated haplessly, “small… nightwear… things.”

Solona turned away, her smile now uneasy. “I’ll go put come clothes on.”

“No! I mean, you’re fine as you are.” Alistair’s voice dropped to a bashful whisper, and his blush deepened. “Perfect, in fact.”

“So,” Cullen’s patience hadn’t worn this thin in a while, “care to enlighten us what you’ve come to discuss?”  
“Yes, ah, if you wouldn’t mind excusing us,” an audible swallow, “ _Solona_.”

Annoyance rather than reason had Cullen standing by his girlfriend’s side. “Anything you’d like to discuss you can say in front of her,” he asserted.

Unfazed, Alistair obliged. “Duncan hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Ire coiled in Cullen’s stomach at the most ridiculous excuse for all this late-night hassle. “Seriously?” He couldn’t help slipping back into that condescending tone he’d only ever use with Alistair. “He’s likely to be working overtime. You know he’ll stumble back in sooner or later.”

To his surprise Alistair nodded- _had he expected this reaction?_ A moment passed as Alistair scanned the ground before he looked right at Cullen. He spoke without whimsy, calm and poignant.

“Duncan’s on a _hunting trip_ ,” a humourless smirk curled Alistair’s lips as Cullen stiffened, “and he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Silence hung above them as the magnitude of his words sank in. “Sol,” Cullen’s stare never left Alistair’s, “would you please excuse us.”

\------------------------------

The stairwell was dark and sleep-inducingly quiet, but Cullen was painstakingly awake, all but chasing his _brother_ down flight after windy flight of stairs.

“Seriously, Alistair- you can’t just show up in the middle of the night and expect me to come with you.”

Without turning or slowing down, Alistair shook his head. “You’re not listening. Duncan is missing and I need your help finding him.”

Cullen still wasn’t seeing the urgency. “Remember the werewolves in Amaranthine? The vengeful spirits in Geltberg? Duncan’s _always_ missing, and he’s _always_ fine.”

Alistair stopped mid-step, turning to face Cullen with the same grave sincerity as before. “Never for this long, and you know it. Now, are you coming or not?”

Cullen pursed his lips, averting his gaze. “No.”

“And why not?”

“Because I swore I was done hunting.” A challenging glare undermined his determination. “ _For good.”_

But Alistair wasn’t going to let it count. “Come on, it wasn’t all that bad.”

Cullen shook his head at the foreseeable deflection. “It wasn’t? When I was scared of monsters in my closet, Duncan gave me a .45. How is that good?”

Leather-clad shoulders shrugged as they continued downstairs. “What was he supposed to have done?”

“For Andraste’s sake, I was _nine_! He should have told me not to be afraid in the dark!”

They were on the last flight now. “You must be kidding- of course you should be afraid of the dark. You do remember what’s out there?”

“I do,” Cullen insisted, “but Duncan’s obsession with finding whatever killed our parents, all the weapons, the Warden training-“ he paused, scowling. Though he was facing his back, he could _hear_ Alistair’s eye-roll. “We’ve never been able to find it. So instead he makes us kill everything else.”

“And save a lot of lives in the process.” Alistair peeked through the glass panes by the building’s entrance while Cullen wasn’t ready to let go.

“Do you think this is the life your family would have wanted for you? Because mine certainly-“

Alistair spun around, lips pursed with sudden anger. A deep-seated loyalty that Cullen remembered only too well clouded his gaze. “Duncan _is_ my family!” His shouting echoed off the walls, loud enough to rouse neighbours, and he quietened down to a hiss. “And here I was thinking he’s yours, too.”

Without holding the door open, Alistair stalked off into the night, leaving Cullen struggling to keep up once more.

A chill crept up his neck, breath wafting before him in a flimsy cloud. Cullen pulled up the hood of the top he’d thrown on. While they walked in silence he tried to make sense of the last half hour’s events. He saw Alistair’s point- Duncan had rescued both boys, taken them in and raised them as Wardens. They did owe him. Still, after two years without a word, Alistair demanded him to give up everything - _and for what, exactly_?

But it was Alistair who spoke again, crossing the quiet street. “So you’re just going to live some regular cheese-pie life and pretend Duncan’s fate doesn’t concern you?”

“I was going to college,” Cullen whined. “It was Duncan who said to stay gone, remember? And that’s what I’m doing.” His tone softened. “Or trying to.”

They’d arrived at their destination where a black, impeccably polished Impala stood out among the more mundane models parked beside it. Cullen shook his head at the myriad of memories the majestic vintage car brought back- not that he’d expected to ever see it again. Alistair opened the driver’s door to retrieve a thick, worn notebook.

Cullen knew he shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t show any more interest, just let it go and leave. He cringed at his question, at the conversation it would open up. “What was Duncan working on, then?”

With an appreciative nod Alistair launched into details he’d been aching to give. “This guy here,” he presented a torn-out newspaper page, “disappeared last month just outside of Solingen in the Anderfels. Just vanished- no note, no call, no signs of a kidnapping.” Anticipating Cullen’s questions, he continued, handing him more evidence. “He’s not the first this year either- there have been three before him, all middle-aged, all vanished just like that. We checked back, and there’ve been twelve such cases in the last thirty years, all within the same twenty-mile radius. Duncan went up there three weeks ago while I was working another job, and I haven’t heard from him in two.” He paused, waiting for Cullen to digest the information before sorting the papers back into his file. “So?”

Cullen had never enjoyed making someone’s eager anticipation sag into sober disappointment. “I can’t go.”

He flinched when Alistair slammed the door shut. “Why not?”

“I have an interview on Monday.”

A surprised frown. “Can’t you just cancel?”

Cullen’s pitch rose along with the almost-forgotten need to explain himself, justify his choices. “A law school interview. I’m applying for a scholarship here at Val Royeaux.””

Alistair stood dumbfounded, unable to link his friend of old to such prestigious endeavours. His bottom lip curled as he nodded to himself, weighing up Cullen’s words in his mind. “Well, that may excuse the move to Orlais of all places,” he threw a disdainful glance at the foreign signs on closed shop fronts. “But still- I can’t do this alone.”

“Yes you can.” All of Cullen’s resolve lay in those three syllables, in the decisive fold of his arms, the dismissive half-shake of his head.

“Well, guess what,” Alistair stepped into Cullen’s space, hunched shoulders and clenched jaw not allowing objection. “I don’t want to.” He sighed, pleading eyes finding Cullen’s. “Duncan _needs_ you.”

An exhale from the depths of his chest released all the unease, all the conflict that was raging in Cullen’s heart. Torn between his lives of old and new, between opportunities and loyalties, he opened his mouth- _but what was he going to say?_

\------------------------------

Solona still hadn’t put clothes on. Shivering, she stood by the bed, shaking her head at the leather bag Cullen was throwing clothes into.

“So your _brother_ shows up here in the middle of the night, you decide to pack your bags and leave and you’re telling me everything is fine?”

“It will be,” Cullen insisted, throwing on his jacket. “Duncan needs help, but I’ll be back Monday in time for the interview.”

Cullen’s tone and the way he avoided eye contact told Solona he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

Hugging her own bare arms, she followed him into the hallway, _to his way out of her life,_ the voice inside her screamed. Like so often she sensed there was more to his story. And like so often she knew better than to ask.

“Look after yourself, dear,” she muttered as the door fell closed.

\------------------------------

_Demons. Spirits. Darkspawn. Blood, sulphur, holy water. Ceremonial daggers, rock salt bombs, silver bullets._

Cullen blinked, faded handwriting on yellowed stickers coming into focus as the door to his left opened.

“Some breakfast?” Cullen cringed at the grease-stained paper bag Alistair held up, sinking into the driver’s seat.

Ignoring the dodgy offering, Cullen nodded at the cardboard box in his lap. “Seriously, mate, you’ve got to upgrade your music collection.”

Alistair shot him a brief sideways glance. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, for one, they’re cassettes,” Cullen offered, chuckling, “and also-,” he picked up a few dusty cases, “Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? That’s like the greatest hits of mullet rock.”

The ignition key turned, and Alistair hummed as the engine came to life. Snatching a tape from the box, he shoved it into the player. A few tired buttons clicked before he turned the volume control to the far right.

“House rules, Noodle,” he pointed at his seat, then Cullen’s, “driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his pie-hole.”

Cullen’s defeated sigh was drowned out by guitar chords he hadn’t heard nor missed in years.

“Really- _Noodle?_ Still with the hair jokes?”

Grinning ear to ear, Alistair stepped on the pedal, manoeuvring them out of the petrol station’s parking lot. “Sorry, can’t hear you. Music’s too loud.”

Soon trees rushed by as shadows, and what little scenery the roadside offered blended into a mess of muddy green. Cullen relaxed back into the leather seat, more comfortable than he remembered. His gaze wandered out the window while AC/DC’s lead singer– _whatever his name may have been_ \- began screeching his lyrics.

_Back in black I hit the sack/ I been too long I'm glad to be back_

_Yes I am/ Let loose from the noose/ That's kept me hanging about_

_I keep looking at the sky cause it's gettin' me high / Forget the hearse cause I'll never die_

_I got nine lives cat's eyes / Using every one of them and runnin' wild_

Just when he was adjusting to the music, the volume dropped. “You know, I do appreciate you coming.” Alistair stayed focussed on the road. “Even if it’s just for the weekend, we’ll be saving people, hunting things-“

“ _Warden business_ ,” Cullen nodded, smiling at Duncan’s old catchphrase.

“That’s it!” Alistair said, excited as if he’d been waiting for this moment. Volume and speed increased, and along with the landscape blurred Cullen’s college life, his recent memories and newfound ambitions.

_Cause I'm back, yes I'm back_

_Well I'm back_

_Yes I'm back in black_

Cullen looked at Alistair, then at the road ahead of them, leading hundreds of miles into uncertainty.

_What was he getting himself into?_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> [Find me (and the boys) on Tumblr!](https://http://cullenstairshenanigans.t%20Tumblr.com) ʘ‿ʘ


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